


Where Did You Sleep Last Night?

by LolaBleu



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Reconciliation, Tumblr: promptsinpanem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:58:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1368061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LolaBleu/pseuds/LolaBleu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blindsided, that’s how Katniss feels when she goes out for her morning coffee and runs into Peeta. It’s been two years since she talked to him, longer since she’s seen him, but there he is, standing in front of her in the sidewalk, smiling like their love story had a happy ending. Sometimes - lots of times - she wishes it did. </p><p>*AU based on the movie Last Night, written for PiP day 6: reconciliation*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Did You Sleep Last Night?

Blindsided, that’s how Katniss feels when she goes out for her morning coffee and runs into Peeta. It’s been two years since she talked to him, longer since she’s seen him, but there he is, standing in front of her in the sidewalk, smiling like their love story had a happy ending.

Sometimes - lots of times - she wishes it did.

But it doesn’t, and she doesn’t know how he can still look at her like she’s the only woman he sees, and she doesn’t know why it still makes her feel like the earth is tilting under her feet when he does.

“What are you doing here?” she gasps.

“I wanted to see you,” he says, reaching out and playfully tugging in the end of her braid.

“So you just walked around the city until you found me?”

"The return address on your Christmas cards,” he explains, pointing to her apartment building a few doors down. “And I know how much you like your morning coffee.”

“What if I’d moved?”

“You didn’t.”

“But what if I had?” she persists.

“Then I would have waited until next year, I guess. I’m only in town until tomorrow morning though, and I’ve got meetings all day, but I was hoping we could catch up over drinks tonight.”

She hesitates and he doesn’t miss it, and he can’t really help it when he asks if Gale won’t let her out for one night a little contemptuously.

“He’s out of town,” she says, and even though it’s been years he can still tell she’s hiding something.

“Then you’ve got no excuse.”

~*~

It doesn’t escape Katniss’ notice that she’s taking more care getting ready to meet Peeta for drinks than she did last night to accompany Gale to his company party. But if her Aunt Effie taught her anything it was that, when you run into an Ex you need to look your absolute best, she rationalizes. And she hadn’t been at her best this morning in jeans and a hoodie and her hair plaited into a messy braid.

Of course Aunt Effie would probably still think her under-dressed in the simple, silky wrap dress the color of plums she slips on, but she knows Peeta would think her beautiful even if she looked like an extra from The Walking Dead. Still, she wants to remind him of… something. Maybe missed opportunities. Katniss might have said, “I do,” to someone else, but he made mistakes too, and if she can’t look at him without thinking of every single ‘what if’, she thinks he should have to do the same.

Predictably, Peeta’s face lights up like the sun when she walks into the bar at The Capitol Hotel and he pulls her in for a quick hug and a whispered, “you look beautiful,” that sends a frisson of pleasure down her spine.

He orders her a whiskey sour, an innocent, “what?” slipping past his lips at her censorious look.

“It can’t be one of _those_ kinds of nights, Peeta,” she reminds him, the weight of her wedding ring feeling ponderous on her finger.

“Shame. My room is just upstairs,” he says like he means it.

Katniss narrows her eyes at him, sizing him up. He’s never been so flippant with her, even when she was single. “You’re different,” she decides.

“I am,” he concedes. “A lot of things can change in a year. I’ve changed a lot in the last year.”

“Yeah, it can," Katniss says noncommittally. 

“And how have you changed this year?”

“Your timing is crazy, you know?” she says, ignoring his question.

“Why? Are you getting a divorce?”

“No,” Katniss says sternly. “It’s just… sometimes I think I can summon you if I think about you enough. But I always think about you when things are bad.” She swallows the rest of her drink in one gulp, hating that where she’s always kept everyone else out, she always lets Peeta in.

“Why are things bad?” he asks softly, seriously, his voice full of concern.

She shakes her head a little, staring contemplatively into her glass. “Forget it. It’s just normal, married stuff anyway. Tell me about you. What are you doing in town?”

“I’m setting up a showing of my paintings at District 4 Gallery. Actually I’m meeting the owner and his wife for dinner in a little while.”

Katniss heart drops through her feet. When Peeta asked her out for drinks she thought she’d have him to herself for more than a few minutes. “I should go,” she says hastily, reaching for her coat.

“No. Come with me. You’ll like Fin and Annie,” Peeta says, grabbing her wrist and staying her.

“I don’t want to intrude… it’s your work dinner, and -” she stutters.

“You’re not intruding. I want you to come with me.”

“No, I shouldn’t.”

“Please? I already told them you’re coming with me. I really do want you to go, Katniss,” he pleads.

“You’re sure?”

“ _Yes,_ ” he says, emphatic.

Peeta helps her into her coat, and Katniss is hyper-aware of his hand at the small of her back as they wind their way out of the crowded bar. It’s only a few minutes walk to the restaurant, their last few minutes alone, and as much as Katniss wants to ask him other questions, she sticks to something nice and safe. “What else did you do today? You said you were going to be busy all day, this morning.”

“Had a breakfast meeting with my art dealer, Plutarch, and then I spent the rest of the day at the hospital doing art therapy stuff with kids,” he ticks off.

“You were always really good with kids.”

“It was nice, making art for art’s sake. Sometimes I look at my paintings and all I see is how I’m going to pay my electric bill.”

Katniss laughs at that, merry and bright. She doesn’t think she’ll ever look at one of Peeta’s paintings and see anything other than his talent, but she knows what he means.

Almost as soon as they’re through the door a handsome, copper-haired man shouts out to Peeta. They embrace like old friends and Katniss just stands there, feeling awkward and left out.

“Finnick Odair,” the man says, jutting his hand out for her to shake. “And this is my wife, Annie.”

Katniss has never been good with strangers, but she slaps a smile on her face and tries her best to sound excited about meeting them.

“You’re very beautiful,” Finnick comments, wagging his eyebrows at her suggestively.

“So’s your wife,” Katniss dead-pans.

“I didn’t realize you were seeing someone in New York,” Finnick casually comments as Peeta holds out Katniss’ chair for her.

“Oh, no, we’re just friends,” she says, flushing.

The restaurant is one of those trendy little places that hip people go to see and be seen, if the number of people who stop to chat with Finnick and Annie is any indication. The food is surprisingly good though, and lamb stew might be the best thing Katniss has ever eaten.

“Katniss!” someone calls out and she doesn’t even need to look up from her plate to know it’s Clove; she’d know that sniveling, grating voice anywhere.

They do the usual, “hi how are you?,” and, “oh I’m fine,” routine until Clove pointedly looks at Peeta and asks where Gale is, the tone of her voice clearly conveying what she thinks is going on, what with Peeta sitting so close and the little looks and touches they’ve been sharing that she must have seen.

“Oh, um, he’s in D.C. on a business trip.”

“Right, well, it was nice to see you out and about,” she smirks before walking away.

“Your best friend?”

“My neighbor,” Katniss scowls.

“Who’s Gale?” Finnick asks around a mouthful of scallops. Both he and Annie ordered them and Katniss wonders if they’re on some weird diet, like they don’t eat anything with a face because it makes them feel less guilty.

“My husband.”

The air around the table shifts noticeably, but before it gets too heavy with the things all of them aren’t saying and Katniss has to bolt out the door to try and outrun her embarrassment at the supposed indiscretion, Annie politely asks what she does for a living. “Are you a painter like Peeta?”

“I’m a singer, actually.”

“A wonderful singer,” Peeta says, squeezing her hand reassuringly under the table. “The first time I heard her, I swear even the birds stopped to listen.”

“Do you have an album out yet? Should I know who you are?” Coming from anyone else the question would probably be insulting, but it’s hard to be insulted with Finnick smiling at her, all charm and dimples and straight white teeth.

“I do -”

“- and it got great reviews,” Peeta interjects.

“And next to no sales,” Katniss reminds him.

“Ah, well, some of the best artists go unnoticed or unappreciated while they’re alive,” Finnick says consolingly. “Once you’re dead, I’m sure you’ll be a huge hit.”

“Thanks, I think.”

The chef herself brings them a sumptuous looking chocolate hazelnut cake for dessert. Her name is Johanna and she’s got short spiky hair, and an obvious history with Finnick. But it does at least allow Katniss and Peeta to do the thing they set out to do tonight: catch up. He asks about her sister, and she asks about his father and brothers, and they just talk and it’s nice.

At least until her phone rings and Gale’s face pops up on the screen. She doesn’t miss the dark look that flashes through Peeta’s eyes as she slips outside to take the call, but if he wanted her to himself maybe he shouldn’t have taken her along to his business dinner.

The first thing out of Gale’s mouth is, “I’m sorry about our fight last night.” And he actually sounds contrite.

“Yeah, me too,” she admits, but after that there’s nothing but uncomfortable silence until he asks what she’s doing. “Just getting a bite to eat,” she says vaguely. “What about you?”

“At a bar, on K street.”

“Is Madge there with you?” Katniss asks suspiciously.

“No… she went back to the hotel, I think.”

“It’s awfully quiet for a bar.”

“I’m in the men’s room. I’m sure some drunk will be banging on the door soon, but I wanted to call you, make sure we were okay. I know leaving before you woke up this morning wasn’t -”

“- it’s fine, really,” Katniss says, staring at Peeta through the window. Whatever he and Finnick are talking about has him clenching his jaw in irritation. “And we’re fine, too.”

“I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Love you.”

Katniss tries to say, “I love you too,” but the words stick in her throat and all she gets out is, “you too,” before hanging up.

Almost as soon as she disconnects she gets a text message from her uncle Haymitch reminding her to feed Effie’s dogs while they’re out of town.

“Everything okay?”

Katniss looks up to find Peeta watching her, her coat in one hand, a tiny take-out box with the rest of her cake in the other.

“Fine. I just need to go feed my aunt’s dogs,” she grouses.

“Want some company? Dinner’s over anyway.”

“Shouldn’t we say goodbye to Finnick and Annie?”

“I already did, for both of us. And I saved your desert,” he says, shaking the box demonstratively. “I know that’s the most important part.”

“You just think that because you grew up in a bakery,” Katniss comments as she flags down a taxi.

“No, I think that because I know you.”

~*~

Katniss watches Peeta out of the corner of her eye as she fixes bowls of food for Caesar and Claudius, Effie’s poodles. They’re sitting in the kitchen perfectly patient and perfectly alert, and Peeta is walking along the shelves in the living room looking at the pictures Effie has framed over the years.

“Are you working on your next album yet?”

“Ah, no, not really,” she says shortly.

“Why not?”

Katniss slams the dogs food down on the floor in front them, and glares at Peeta as he takes a seat at the kitchen table, because she doesn’t want to talk about this, but she will because it’s him, even if it makes her feel like a failure.

“It just… won’t come. I sit down with my notebooks and it’s all a jumble in my head and nothing comes out right,” she says and she fusses with everything within reach on the counter. “I keep trying, and it’s not working and I’m getting to the point of burning all my notebooks full of useless lyrics that come to nothing and getting a job at Starbuck’s.”

“You didn’t have that problem in Panem, with me.”

“I didn’t have that problem in Panem because it’s a tiny town of a couple thousand in the middle of Vermont, and there’s no distractions. That’s why Cinna sent me there to finish my first album.”

“So, I wasn’t a distraction?”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she hisses.

“Explain to me why we didn’t work, then.”

“Jesus, Peeta!” she snaps. “I don’t want to talk about this!”

“I do! Because I’m the one who has to come here and see pictures of you in this life!,” he yells, pointing to the rows of framed photos in accusation. “And I need to know now, because I didn’t know then! Was I just what you needed to be sure of Gale!?”

“No!” Katniss shouts back, furious, but it only lasts a minute, and then she slumps against the counter heavily. “After the tour, what little there was of it, I came back to Panem for two months. I lived right next door to you. I can count on my fingers how many times I saw you then, and usually it was just you showing up late at night and only staying long enough to have sex.”

“I didn’t know what you being there meant, Katniss; if it meant anything at all, after you going back and forth between Gale and I. And I was getting ready for my first major show, the one that made me; I didn’t have the time to worry about anything else but that,” he says defensively.

“It’s done. So no, you weren’t what I needed to be sure of Gale, just what I needed to be sure of you.” She grabs the dog’s leashes, desperate for a way to get away from this conversation and all the pain it dredges up. “I’m taking the dogs for a walk,” she announces and then she’s out the door.

It’s getting colder at night, Fall becoming Winter, and her bare legs between her heels and the hem of her dress pebble with goosebumps. It feels good against her hot cheeks though, and she can almost convince herself it’s the reason why her eyes are so watery.

By the time she gets back she’s much more composed, and Peeta must be as well because he’s standing in front of the building waiting for her. She holds her hand up to him, palm up, and he smiles, taking it in his own. “ _The keys, Peeta?_ ”

Confusing flashes across his face. “I thought you had them?”

“I left them on the table, right next to you!” she frets, pulling on the lobby door desperately, but it’s no use, it’s locked. Her keys, her purse… everything is up there, and no amount of pressing on the buzzer for the Super brings any response.

“Let’s just walk for a while,” Peeta suggest. “He probably went out and will be back later. It’s friday night, afterall.”

“It’s strange, you being here,” Peeta comments after they’ve walked a few minutes.

“So you’ve said," she grouses.

“No, not that. I mean, in a city. I always imagine you in the woods, hunting and foraging,” he says wistfully. “Or in my garden, helping me pull weeds. Or walking through the meadow at sunset, like we used to do. Just outside really.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the country. I think about West Virginia a lot. We were dirt poor growing up in Seam, but at least I knew where I belonged, you know? I don’t always feel that way here.”

“Would you go back, if you could?”

“No, too many bad memories. But I wouldn’t mind leaving the city.”

“So why stay?”

Since there’s nothing other than mild curiosity in his voice, Katniss decides to answer him. “Gale’s job, mostly.”

“Is he still building a better bomb?”

“I don’t know, we don’t talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just easier that way. And sometimes he can’t tell me, even if he wants to; Coin Security does a lot of consulting and contract work for the Defense Department.”

They wander into a little park between homes and offices, and decide to stay a while. There’s a hot chocolate stand, and a small jazz band playing for loose change and spare bills. They situate themselves at one of the benches, watching people come and go, couples swaying softly to the music.

The hot chocolate does a lot to warm Katniss up, but as the night gets darker and it grows colder she starts to shiver, and Peeta pulls her close with an arm around her shoulders. She knows she probably shouldn’t let him, but it’s about comfort, not affection, she tells herself. She can’t say the same when the band plays the first strings of La Vie en Rose and Peeta pulls her to her feet; it feels too good in his arms to care about technicalities.

“You should sing,” he murmurs in her ear as they sway.

Katniss shakes her head because she can’t answer him, let alone sing the words to the song - even though she knows them by heart -, around the lump in her throat. Just thinking about them is almost enough to bring tears to her eyes and break her heart because they’re too painful in this moment, here with him.

And somehow, right around the point where Louis Armstrong should be rasping out how _when you speak everyday words turn into love songs_ , Peeta’s lips are on hers. And she forgets everything else - their history, Gale, everything -, and kisses him back. At first soft and sweet, and then hungrily, the way she used to when kissing him for hours was all she needed.

When the songs ends, so does the kiss, but she doesn’t try to move from his arms. “We should go,” she whispers, when she finds her voice again.

~*~

The Superintendent still isn’t answering at Haymitch and Effie’s building, and Katniss can’t get back in her own building without a key - can’t even rent a hotel room for the night without her wallet -, so Peeta takes her back to his room. Other than sleeping in the park and half freezing to death it’s her only option.

She gratefully kicks off her heels and flops onto the couch, Caesar and Claudius making a beeline for the bed, just like they would at home. Peeta sits down next to her, pulling her feet to his lap to rub them.

“You just touch me whenever you want, don’t you?”

“I touch you a fraction of how much I want,” he says, leaning over and kissing up her leg to her knee. And then higher, up her thigh, to the part of her chest not covered by her dress, then to her neck, his full weight resting between her legs.

“I can’t, Peeta,” Katniss whines when his hands start reaching for the buttons keeping her hidden from him.

He sighs heavily, defeated, and pulls himself away. He paces back and forth while Katniss straightens her dress and tries to ignore the throbbing ache between her legs.

“When I said earlier that things were bad… Gale and I, last night, we had a fight about his new coworker, Madge. About him being attracted to her. About this.”

“Is that why you’re here right now? Because he’s with her on that business trip?” He tries not to sound too wounded, but it’s hard not to.

“Not anymore than I married him to get back at you for treating me the way you did.”

“I know I fucked up, Katniss,” he says miserably, his face a study in pain. “Is that why you married him? Because you thought I didn’t love you? Because I do. I still do. I always will.”

“I married him because I love him. And I love you,” she says in a rush. “And late at night, when I can’t sleep, it’s you I think about. And that’s why I fought with Gale last night. Because I never told him about you, and he never told me about her, and all I could think about was the reasons why.”

“And you don’t think it says something that you think about me, and he’s attracted to someone else?” he scoffs.

“Are you okay?” Katniss asks worriedly, ignoring his question because she can’t answer it and the longer he paces, the more he limps.

“Fine, just walked too much today. But this is why I wanted to see you,” he says, sitting down and pulling his pant leg up to show her the prosthetic for the first time.

Her eyes go wide and she makes a choked noise like she’s holding back a sob at the sight of the cold metal where there should be warm flesh.

“I was riding my motorcycle one night last winter, going too fast, when I hit a patch of ice,” he says in the sort of flat, too emotionless voice people use when they talk about something that really hurts. “The doctors said I was lucky to be alive; that I should be happy all I lost was the lower part of my leg. But laying there, in that hospital bed, all I could think about was you. How you were the only one I wanted there by my side, how you were the only one who ever made it all worthwhile.”

“Peeta,” she moans painfully, lurching towards him, her old need to protect him coming back full force. If she could never let go, if that was all she ever needed to do to keep him from being in pain again, she would. She’s always thought he’s too kind for this world, a world that would kill him without a second thought.

“You just want me because I’m in pain,” he teases, but his voice is wet and strained and she knows he’s holding back tears too. “And I don’t want that.”

“Yes, you do,” she mumbles into his neck.

“You’re wrong. I want you to want me because that’s what you want,” he says gently, uncharacteristically stumbling over the words.

They stay entwined awkwardly on the couch until Peeta starts wincing and shifting uncomfortably and Katniss ushers him to the bed, unceremonious kicking the dogs off.

She sits on the edge of the bed carding her fingers through his hair until he grabs her hand and pulls her down with him. “I’m leaving in the morning, but I want to spend every moment I can with you,” he says, and, willingly, she settles into his arms.

“Did you leave the keys in Haymitch’s apartment on purpose?”

“No. Would Gale be angry if he knew you were here?” he asks, his hand rubbing lazily up and down her back. If there is one thing she misses more than anything, it’s that. It’s such a simple thing, but it’s always felt like love when Peeta does it, more so than words ever could.

“He’d have no right to be; I gave you up.”

Peeta winces at her words, and pulls her closer.

~*~

Katniss doesn’t think either of them slept a wink last night, but it’s not exhaustion that’s weighing her down as she walks Peeta out of his hotel, him with his suitcase, her with Caesar and Claudius.

“Let’s not make a big thing of this, okay?” she pleads as the stand in front of the building, waiting for a taxi.

“Let me take you home,” he pleads in turn, desperate for another minute with her.

“No. I want to walk. It will be good for me,” she says tearfully. “And for them too,” she motions to the dogs.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I need it,” she says trying to ignore the way her body’s shaking. She reaches out for him, wanting this to be over so she can start to put herself back together again. Her kiss is quick, but it’s the best she can; do words won’t come.

She spins out of his grasp, needing to flee, but before she can get more than a few steps, Peeta grabs her, forcing her to face him and then his lips are crashing against hers, and she swears she can feel every minute that he’s missed her and loved her and longed for her since they’ve been apart.

Even when the kiss ends the stand there, holding on like the only thing that matters is the other. The taxi driver honks and bangs his fist against the side of the car obnoxiously, and Katniss has never wanted to put an arrow through someone more than she does him at this moment.

Neither one of them seems to be able to say ‘goodbye’, so they just say, “I love you,” and leave it at that. Katniss stays rooted to the sidewalk until Peeta’s taxi disappears around the corner.

The walk home is a blur, and the only bright spot is that she’s able to slip inside her building when someone else is coming out, and the key to their apartment that Gale hid under a potted plant on their landing when they moved in is still there. She kicks her shoes off in the living room, not caring enough to pick them up and put them away. She strips out of her dress in the bedroom, and though she knows she should probably shower, or at least wash off her makeup, all she has the energy for is pulling on her robe and pair of warm, fuzzy socks.

She sits down at the window seat overlooking the courtyard at the back of the building, and for the first time, really lets herself cry. She couldn’t stop it if she wanted too anyway. Caesar and Claudius whimper and paw at her when her sobbing reaches a fevered pitch; her throat raw and her stomach sick and the wounds on her heart fresh again.

The tears never really stop, but they do slow down. When Gale stumbles through the door, they’re merely a trickle. He doesn’t look like he slept last night either, but she doesn’t notice that anymore than he notices her crying, at least at first.

“I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow?” she asks, her voice sounding almost normal as the dogs rush across the room to greet him.

“We finished up early. What are they doing here?” He pets them absently before turning his attention back to her.

“We got locked out last night.”  
  
“Who?”

“Me and the dogs,” she lies.

“Are you okay?” he asks, alarmed, noticing her tears for the first time. He crosses the room hastily, crouching down in front of her and taking her hand in his. “I’m sorry about our fight, Catnip,” he says kissing her knuckles. “But I have the day off and I thought maybe we could go out, just us. It’s been too long since we’ve done that.”

“That sounds… really nice,” she says, trying to convince herself as much as him. “I’ll go change.”

He lets her hand fall away as she walks back into the bedroom. Her eyes land on the dress tossed haphazardly over their bed and thoughts of Peeta hit her hard, taking her breath away with them.

“Katniss…,” Gale says from behind her, making her jump and spin around. He’s holding her high heels in his hand, a strange look on his face. “Where did you sleep last night?”

~*~

It’s a picture perfect white winter day outside the windows of Peeta’s studio, but it’s not the snowy landscape he’s painting, it’s Katniss. Katniss wrapped in flames, her hair fanning up around her face, heartbreakingly beautiful.

Finnick has been hounding him to come back to New York for the opening of his show, but Peeta can’t go back. Not now, maybe not ever. He can’t be that close to Katniss and not have her. He’s resolved a hundred times to get rid of every painting he’s ever made of her; resolved to never paint her again because the memories are too painful. He can’t do it though, can’t give up this one last part of her: his memories. So he paints like a madman, Katniss staring back at him from every side of his studio, in one way or another.

It takes a while for the pounding on his front door to break through the haze in his brain, and he’s going to shout at whoever it is and slam the door in their face for disrupting him. He’s been avoiding his friends and family and neighbors for weeks since he got back, and right now that's all he wants: solitude.

There’s a string of obscenities perched on his tongue when he flings the door open, but all that makes it out is a surprised gasp, and all he’s aware of is dark hair and grey eyes and olive skin and the familiar feeling of Katniss in his arms. His back slams against the wall and somehow the door gets slammed shut, and she’s kissing him so fiercely he thinks he might die.

“Don’t leave me again,” he gasps when he can finally stand to put a hairsbreadth of space between their lips.

“Don’t let me,” she says before kissing him again, pulling him backwards towards his bedroom on memory alone. 


End file.
